In Perfect Harmony II
by PrecursorAO3
Summary: Liera, Jack, and the rest of Planet Harmony's inhabitants must learn how to coexist with their newest resident: A Remnant Architect named Tiny. [Collection of one shots; Collaborative work with MjrGenMatt; Inspired by the story, "Of Steel and Stardust."]
1. Chapter 2: Making it to Tomorrow

*****ATTENTION*****

The first chapter is titled, "Building a Better War," over on MjrGenMatt's profile page.

* * *

 **Summary:** Jack asked her what they were doing tomorrow. Liera wasn't sure if Commander Briggs would let them live to see it.

* * *

If you've ever seen a hospital's emergency room during an epidemic, you'd already know what a Militia Titan Bay looks like after a major conflict with the IMC. If not, well…

The best way to describe it is:

Complete and utter chaos.

To make matters worse?

There was a giant robot _following us home,_ floating in outer space right alongside the _MCS Braxton.  
_  
"Pilot-"

"I know, EV. I see it."

No, I hadn't thought about what came _after_ I neural-linked with the so-called "Architect" EV and I found underneath ruins that didn't exist outside of classified SRS reports. And no, I shouldn't have gone to check out the strange frequencies we picked up without asking permission, _or_ on my own…

And none of that mattered now. All that did was that there was a robot half the size of the ship following us through each slipstream jump we took.

I sighed, and pulled my helmet off. EV's cockpit doors opened, and our designated mechanic waited for me to disembark before handing me a clipboard.

"Here's the damage, Pilot."

I gave him an acknowledging grunt, flipping through the report.

Severe damage to the hull. Burnt sparkplugs. A jammed acolyte pod launcher. Sensory malfunctions on the rear optical panel. Near complete depletion of ammunition reserves.

I stopped reading halfway, and turned to EV as she put her face back together. The cockpit doors locked tight, her innocent little lens blinking.

She was scratched to all hell, the nose art I ordered to be painted reduced to a mess of dents and what _used_ to be feathers.

"I'll give you 50 Credits under the table if you fix her paint job."

"Uh…" He looked around at the sparking, twitching Titans that began unloading their own Pilots, "You _do_ realize we're understaffed with more emergency operations scheduled than we've had since Typhon, right?"

Some of his metal patients were missing limbs, others were…set on fire…and-

Shit.

MOB-1316 had parked. _His_ Pilot?

Commander Sarah fucking Briggs.

I shoved the clipboard at his chest, and jumped the railing. I'd just landed and began to hightail it to my Quarters before I heard a terrorizing shout.

"LASTIMOSA!"

I froze, spun on my heel, and gave her the sturdiest salute I have in years.

She pushed herself to her feet, not having waited for her own cockpit to open entirely before jumping out. She ripped her helmet off, and stormed towards me.

Yeah.

Shit.

My hand began to shake, the edge of my palm trembling above my brow.

"What were you-…What is-…" Her lips curled, "Just _WHAT_?!"

I gulped, and folded my hands behind my back.

"Commander, I-"

The hatch at the end of the Bay peeled open, and a limping BT shoved another Titan out of his way before continuing his walk of shame. No, that's a bad word for it. More like his walk of, "I'm still here, mother fuckers."

Sarah snapped her fingers in front of my face, "Hey, HEY. I asked you a question, Pilot!"

I swallowed again, and shifted my frightened eyes to her.

"I'll have an official report to you by this evening."

Her gloves squealed as her hands imploded into fists.

"I want it on my desk within the hour. Do _not_ make me hunt you down."

Her shoulder hit mine as she stomped past me, strong enough to dislodge my prosthetic arm from its stiff salute.

My lungs drained the breath they held captive. I closed my eyes, trying to reel in the fear of being pummeled, but honestly, I would have preferred to be out there wrangling that _thing_ I found rather than pissing off the Commander.

"Hey."

My eyes snapped open, and my brother was the one talking, now.

"Hi."

He gave me that stupid sideways grin he's had since he was a kid.

"You never answered my question."

I bit my lip, and tried not to yell. Tried not to _ream_ him for the "I want to be a hero again," shit he and BT pulled out there. The kind of shit that forced my hand in riding a goddamn murder machine in the sky so it could get its fill of IMC Titans.

Still, he was alive. I held on to that, and let him off easy.

"What question, Jack…" I sighed.

My shoulders tensed to my ears as another shout came from behind me.

"COOPER!"

He broke into the same, panicked salute I had a moment ago.

"Yes, sir, COMMANDER BRIGGS, SIR?"

I inched around him. She was standing there, neck arched over her shoulder.

"Eye-witness statement. FORTY. FIVE. MINUTES." She shouted, and took a sharp turn towards the Command Deck.

He squinted at me, "This is your fault."

I shrugged, "Worth it."

…

Sarah had one hand tucked under her arm, holding Jack's written statement in the other. Her brows slowly pinched in the middle as her eyes darted from the first sentence to the last.

When we finally made it back to Harmony, Jack and I rushed to our terminals. Writing a full-on report like that in 10 minutes did neither of our stories justice, and she made us stand at full attention while she read them.

She stood behind her desk, staring us down. She adjusted herself, leaning the small of her back on a filing cabinet.

She was _not_ a happy Commander.

"'Giant murder robot?'" Sarah glared at Jack.

He cleared his throat, "Yes, sir."

She glinted her death-glare at me, and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"So it's _actually_ called an Architect?"

"Yes, sir." I answered.

Sarah took a deep breath before sitting down, folding her hands and placing them on her desk.

"Take a seat."

Jack and I sat in a quick, simultaneous motion.

"Lastimosa, your report says you evaluated all available options before linking with…'Tiny'…and _then_ woke it up. Cooper's report suggests otherwise, and I quote," She pulled Jack's snitch-report closer to her face, "'I can control it with a mental link not unlike how we use our Titans. There's a lot of science bullshit besides that, which I don't really understand, so don't ask.' Which is it?"

"He said _what?"_ I reached out, trying to snatch it from her hands.

Jack grabbed my arms, aiming them away.

"YOU-" He started to defend himself, but my shoulder bumped his mouth, interrupting him, "YOU SAID IT, NOT ME!"

"PILOTS!" Sarah slapped the report on the desk like a newspaper on a dog's behind.

My back hit my chair, and so did Jack's.

"Need I remind you that every Pilot in the Marauder Corps is liable for severe charges should they intentionally compromise themselves _or_ their Titan's neural-link." She folded her arms, and crossed her legs, "I've got half a mind to lock you in the brig."

"I didn't-"

She raised a hand, "I'm not done."

I shut my mouth, and let her keep berating me.

"The refugees in Newdrift are panicking. The Architect parked right next to them after we got the _Braxton_ in drydock." She ran a hand down her face, "Every time it…purrs…the ground shakes. We've been getting complaints from the colonies outside the city. So, oh wise Lastimosa, where do you propose we even _put_ this thing?"

I was ready to suggest the biggest moon we could find in the Freeport System, but the radio strapped to her vest crackled before I got a word out.

The electricity flickered, and the whole building trembled.

 **"Commander!"**

Her face turned red. She shook her head slowly with daggers for eyes, "I swear, if this has anything to do with your new _pet…_ "  
 **  
**A heavy sigh left her, and she clicked the button on the side of the radio, "What's up, Bish?"

 **"This…this-"**

"Giant murder robot…" Jack mumbled.

 **"Whatever this is, just started** _ **burrowing**_ **on the Outskirts!"**

Sarah bit her lip. The edge of Jack's report crinkled in her fist.

"Hang tight."

She flattened her hands on the desk, and pushed herself out of her chair.

"This is your mess. Fix it." Her lips twitched in anger as she spoke.

I nodded so quickly I made myself dizzy, "Yes, Commander. What are my orders?"

"Put together a Fireteam, get out there, and get that fucking thing _out_ of here."

I pursed my lips, "Or…"

Her nose scrunched, "'OR?'"

"We could…you know, just let it do it's thing. Build stuff."

She slammed her fists on the desk, sending a pencil holder to the floor. Jack and I jumped in our seats.

"Unless it can build us a better war, I don't want any 'stuff,' it has to offer! Now _MOVE IT!"  
_  
I almost knocked the chair over as I jumped to my feet. I'd just got my hand on the door handle before she barked again.

"And Lastimosa…"

I cocked my chin towards her.

"The next time you slam my door, you'll find yourself with _two_ prosthetic arms. Are we clear?"

I nodded.

"Good. Dismissed."

Jack and I escaped the Commander's office, and I put my hands on my stomach. Delta Wing rumbled again, and an alarm went blaring overhead.

"I think I'm gonna be sick." I raised a fist to my mouth.

"No time for that. You've gotta take Tiny for a walk."

I gave him the most condescending look I could muster, "If you think you're getting out of this, you're even more stupid than you were when you thought taking on half the IMC's fleet on your own was a good idea."

"Great…"

I stretched my back, and hiked a brow, "Oh, and what question didn't I answer? The one from before."

He blinked himself awake, "I asked you, 'What're we doing tomorrow…?'"

"HAH!" I slapped him on the back, and flipped my helmet over my head.

My visor lit up, and more warnings than I could keep track of littered my HUD.

"We gotta make it to tomorrow, Jack."

* * *

 **A/N:** To keep things interesting, neither of us tell each other how our chapters will end. You will see us commenting on each other's chapters because of this.


	2. Chapter 4: Ryder Die

*****ATTENTION*****

The third chapter is titled, "Remembering What Was," over on MjrGenMatt's profile page.

* * *

 **Summary:** Tiny may have gone to sleep, but he was scared. What could scare an Architect?

* * *

I didn't need dad to be alive to hear him screaming, "YOU HAD ONE JOB."

His reprimand was loud and clear as I stood on the outskirts of Radiance, the capital city of Planet Harmony that housed the HQ of the Frontier Militia…

And my "one job" was to secure Tiny and making sure he didn't act up.

 **"Lastimosa,"** Sarah mumbled over the radio, **"Are you still alive? It stopped screeching."**

I turned to EV, watching from behind.

"All clear, Commander."

 **"Copy that. Keep me posted."  
**  
"Yes, sir."

Tiny preferred to be petted with my prosthetic, and the scraping of metal-on-metal ground against my eardrums.

"Shhh…" I mumbled, my hand sliding down the tip of his enormous…Beak?

"It's alright."

I rolled my eyes, wondering how I got myself into this mess.

Oh. Right. I'd been an idiot. An _impulsive_ idiot. The worst kind.

"Pilot," EV chirped, "I believe the Architect is scared."

I cocked my chin, "You feel that, too?"

"Yes."

Being neural-linked with a Vanguard-class Titan came with its own complexity of human-to-robot-and-vice-versa transference of emotions. After throwing an Architect in the mix, things were getting out of hand.

Complicated.

Kind of like how this thing _had_ emotions.

It begged the questions: How was it even _possible_ that another sentient, non-organic lifeform existed? One that couldn't speak, on top of it all? Where did it _come_ from?

I sighed, and plopped on the ground. I flicked my canteen open, taking a few gulps of water before wiping my mouth and draping my elbows over my knees.

"Jack, you there?"

 **"Sure am. Still not coming anywhere near that thing."**

I looked over my shoulder, finding BT's twinkling chassis out in the distance.

"Punk."

 **"That's okay. I'm perfectly fine with being a 'punk,' so long as Tiny knows to respect my personal space."**

A dust devil twirled towards the sky, spinning out as it climbed higher. Tiny nestled in the sand, pushing it up and forming dunes around his massive head.

Another question came to mind:

What could scare an _Architect?_

…

The Militia had its hands full repairing the 9th Militia Fleet after we made it home. Ship hulls, Titan frames – you name it. If it was made out of metal, it needed fixed.

Problem was, we couldn't _fix_ loss of life. Our forces had been thinned, and those hands we needed so badly were in short supply.

What better time to be an engineer…

I jumped on my bed, burying my face in a pillow. I'd just finished a 12-hour shift, and had a long week of being on-call ahead of me. That meant two things:

I got my own room in on-base housing…And my "shift," wasn't _actually_ over.

"EV, set an alarm for 0600…" I yawned at my helmet on the night stand, cursing the clock for striking zero-hundred.

"Alarm set. Good night, Pilot Lastimosa."

"Night, EV."

I pulled my blanket tight against my body, ready to drift off into sweet dreams of kittens and _hopefully_ not nightmares.

I didn't get very far.

…

 _Even after the Scourge hit, I remained patient. When these so-called humans began activating the Monoliths, I stayed quiet. Despite them wandering into the Vault and wiping it out, I held my position._

 _Then they brought machines with them. Built a home. Put devices down that shook Eos to the core just for a few drops of water._

 _They were defiling my creation, and I decided that I'd laid idle long enough._

 _ **"Last hammer. Everyone ready?"  
**_  
 _I listened from below, waiting to make my move. I'd set the trap, and they'd taken the bait. Their faces as my tendrils reached towards the sky were priceless._

 _Never have I encountered such a species that knew so little about the technology they toyed with. They were overdue for a hard lesson._

 _ **"What is**_ **that?!** _ **"**_

 _"Coming this way!"_

 _I thought the fight would be easy…But no matter how many Remnant spawns I delivered, they were cut down._

 _I fled. More than once. They followed. It wasn't until I made it to orbit that they left me alone._

 _And so, the search for a new home began…because the one I spent centuries designing had fallen to their hands._

 _His hands._

 _He who teleported and shot pure, raw energy from his palms. He who had reverse-engineered an Observer to abide by his commands, forcing it to reveal my weaknesses. He who cut my army down with waves of concentrated power that even_

 _I hadn't witnessed._

 _He who they called, "Pathfinder."_

…

I shot upright, dripping in cold sweat. I'd barely caught my breath before I realized the series of chirps _weren't_ EV's alarm clock.

"Pilot, the robot construct designated as 'Tiny,' is in distress."

My fingers slid across my eyes as I tried to rub the tired out. I blinked rapidly, turning to check the time.

0200\. Two hours of sleep was enough for a Pilot to be fully-functional, right?

"I recommend we aid and assist. If he repeats previous behavior, Commander Briggs may grow irate."

I sighed.

She wasn't wrong. The timing didn't sit well with me after having the dream I did, though.

 _Tiny's_ dream…

It was as if this was his way of talking to me.

"Did you see what I saw?"

"I witnessed a strong series of fluctuations within the patterns of your brain waves. I was not, however, able to see what was causing them."

I swallowed, thinking back to the man in black. He had some watered-down version of a jump kit built into a suit unlike anything I'd ever seen. An orange blade that glowed on this left arm. A gun that resembled a Smart Pistol. He wasn't wearing a Pilot's helmet, but the one he _did_ wear sure as fuck wasn't standard-issued. And his…abilities.

Spawning a shield, seemingly out of nowhere. Disappearing in a purple blur before charging at an enemy, blasting them with a surge of… _something_.

I realized Tiny's fear was far from misguided. The "Pathfinder" scared me, too.

And that was pretty damn hard to do.

…

Get to Commander Briggs before Tiny wakes all of Radiance up.

It's all I could focus on.

I hopped on one leg, trying to put my left boot on while I all but ran down the hall of Delta Wing. My jumpsuit wasn't zipped up the whole way. The Velcro straps of my armor were crooked and kept sticking to my shemagh. The chain that held my dogtags got tangled in my hair – the side that _wasn't_ shaved.

I was the literal definition of a mess.

"Long night?"

I froze, my side hitting the wall as I lost balance.

Jack was in his fatigues, judging me as he rested his elbow on top of the helmet strapped to his belt.

"I wish." I huffed, pausing to lace my boot.

"Who's the guy?" He put his hands on his hips, "Who do I have to murder?"

"Not _that_ …" I rolled my eyes, "Tiny needs me."

"Uh…How would you know?"

I pointed to the silver implants in my head.

"I don't envy you."

I jogged past him, ignoring his comment.

"Want some back up?"

"What, so you can hide out on the hill again?" I stopped, "What are you doing up, anyway?"

He took to the face he made when he tried to come up with a lie. His jaw tightened crooked, his cheeks got red, and he crossed his arms, "Couldn't sleep."

"Uh-huh…So you were with Sage again."

He clammed up.

"Right. Well, if you'll excuse me, I've got to break EV out of the Titan Bay without getting caught."

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"Why? I've done it plenty of times."

"MOB and BT are parked right next to her. I saw them before I packed up and went home."

"Ugh…"

I wasn't worried about BT outing me. MOB, on the other hand…

"Sorry, girl…You're gonna have to sit this one out."

My helmet blinked, "Pilot, the maintenance frames have my chassis stuck in a standing position. Adjusting myself may cause damage to Militia property. How do you wish to proceed?"

I shook my head, "Just stay put…"

"Leaving you to visit 'Tiny' by yourself seems to be a direct violation of Protocol 3."

"He's not gonna hurt me, EV."

"Evaluating risk assessment…Pilot, results conclude that fatality may incur by the following methods:  
Getting stepped on.  
Incinerated by a laser.  
Ripped in hal-"

"EV." I snapped, "I'll be fine."

She quieted, but I could feel her doubt.

Should've listened.

…

The sandy outskirts of Radiance weren't hot like they'd been earlier in the day. There was a soothing chill on the breeze that carried a sweet scent. If Tiny could smell, he might've liked it.

Maybe it would've settled him down.

"What's gotten into you?"

My Hemlok rattled against my leg as I held my hands up, trying to direct his pointed spear-for-a-face back at my direction. The three triangles that formed his mouth opened, and a red light flashed and faded in sync with his pitiful chirps.

He kept looking behind him.

"Is someone out there?"

I launched the HUD on my visor.

"Commencing typography scan…" EV announced as an orange line swept the desert, "Pilot, there is an unidentified aircraft with stealth technology stationed 3 klicks from your current location."

I squinted, seeing the faintest shape blinking on the horizon. EV zoomed in. We'd almost locked on before a white light made my eyes bleed.

I shielded them as if it was right in front of me, and the scope pulled back.

"What the fuck _was_ that?"

An engine growled in the distance, and a puff of sand shot from the edges around the light.

"Tiny, stay behind me."

He purred, shaking the ground as he slithered out of view. I could feel his multi-ton shell splitting the wind with his sheer size.

So what if the smallest bolts holding him together were bigger than me?

They weren't getting to Tiny.

…

It was _huge._ Not Tiny-level huge, but _damn._

It looked like a white IMC Paladin tank, just not with the "tank" parts. A rocket-thruster-system-whatever pushed it a good 160 km/h towards us. The six wheels underneath it spun wildly, carving the desert sand with treads deep enough that I could've sank my foot in them. Hell, the tires themselves were so big they would've come up to my shoulders if the person driving it was stupid enough to _get_ that close.

The wheels locked, and the not-tank slid to a halt. I cocked my Hemlok, aiming at the beams shining in my face.

 **"Hi-er…Hello there. Do you speak English?"**

I didn't know what the hell "English" was, but I could understand him just fine.

 **"If he…or** _ **she,**_ **doesn't** _ **,**_ **how do you expect them to understand what you're saying?"**

This voice was deeper. Frothy, with a gurgle to his words.

"EV," I kept my voice low, in-helmet communications only, "Get me a read on these clowns."

"Scanning…"

I read a bunch of confusing data on mismatching biologics and a series of question marks that broke EV's brain.

Never saw that happen before.

 **"Is this thing even on?"**

I cringed as the first man tapped a microphone, my shoulder slamming against my ear to muffle at least one side of my helmet.

 **"OW-Jesus, Ryder!"**

A woman yelled, her voice deeper than most. Smoother.

 **"Sorry, sorry…Hey, why hasn't the Architect started shooting at us yet?"**

Tiny hissed, shining red light on the not-tank as he bared his "fangs."

 **"I don't know,"** The frothy man scolded, **"** _ **You're**_ **the Pathfinder!"**

That answered most of my questions.

I flicked the laser sight on my gun, shining it on what I guessed to be the cockpit.

"You there, Outlanders! You're infringing on Frontier Militia property! Identify yourself!"

There was a slight pause, and a breeze shifted the tension elsewhere. Muted bickering ensued, and I lowered my weapon in disbelief.

"HEY!"

They quieted.

 **"Put your gun down, I'm coming out!"**

The side of the vehicle lifted, and a black figure squirmed next to it. He had his hands raised, and his chest facing me.

"We don't put our 'guns down' in the SRS, mate." My laser took to his chest, underlining my point, "Now, tell me who you are."

"I'm a Specialist within the Pathfinder Recon Team that's traveled a very long way to find _that_ Architect." He stopped a short distance, lowering his hands, "She's got a helmet on, too. Is the air safe to breathe here, SAM?"

I cocked my head, "My name's not-"

He held up his finger, like he was taking an important phone call.

I bit my lip, ready to put a bullet in his helmet and show him how _not_ safe he was.

More importantly, I wondered how a ship got past the Outer Ring; a literal ring of space stations that surrounded our slice of the Frontier. They were floating outposts equipped with large-scale EMPs capable of sinking an entire IMC fleet, Mythos Station 0-93 being the biggest.

The probable cause was, this ship got past the Watchers on Mythos because they hadn't been _looking_ for an IMC fleet. After all, why would they come here? We'd just kicked their ass in the Typhon War.  
I realized that, just like them, Tiny and I made a mistake within the last 24 hours.

Me in the morning, at the cemetery with Jack. Him at night, retelling his defeat on Eos, wherever _that_ was.

We were stuck on remembering what _was,_ rather than facing what was _now._

A shifting body scattered the not-tank's headlights into rays, giving it a holy outline.

"Pathfinder Ryder," He extended his hand, "Call me Scott."


	3. Chapter 6: Instruction Cycle

*****ATTENTION*****

The fifth chapter is titled, "Cut From the Same Cloth," over on MjrGenMatt's profile page.

* * *

 **Summary:** Fetch. Decode. Execute.

* * *

Temperature: 24 degrees Celsius  
Wind Speed: 19 kph  
Humidity: 34%  
Precipitation: 0%  
Time: 14:07

Pilot is displaying signs of irritation.

"Bring it back, Inga..."

Probable cause: Canine companion failed to retrieve a rubber ball.  
Suggesting course of action...

"Pilot Lastimosa, if you desire to maintain possession of the ball, I recommend you stop throwing it."

Pilot's facial expression matches archived human emotion: "Confused."

"We're playing a game, EV..."

Opening Archive for transcription...  
Inquiry:

"Please define this game."

Awaiting Pilot response.

"It's called fetch."

Pilot is unable to free the rubber ball from canine's grip. Struggle commencing.  
Evaluating risk assessment...  
Results: Unable to act without incurring fatality.

"I throw the ball, she brings it back, and repeat. For dogs, it's fun. Me? Boring."

Pilot forcefully retook possession of the ball before throwing it farther.

"She kept chewing on the couch. I figured she needed the exercise."

Closing transcription.  
Data log: "Fetch," archived under, "Games."  
Comparing similarities...  
Match found.  
Description: and passing possession of a leather ball outside of the Lastimosa residence.  
Sounding off for confirmation...

"This is similar to when Captain Lastimosa and Pilot Cooper played, 'Catch.'"

Pilot is displaying signs of grief.  
!ALERT!: Error repetition, 45th offense.  
Description: Mentioning Captain Tai Lastimosa.

"Yeah...it's similar, alright. Jack's got about the same cranial capacity as Inga."

Pilot has suppressed grief with humor.  
!ALERT!: Vanguard Processing Unit has found a secondary match.  
Description: The Remnant construct known as "Tiny," destroying various layers of outlying ruins.  
Suggesting course of action...

"Pilot, requesting permission to traverse to the Harbor District."

Pilot Lastimosa is tired and does not wish to travel.  
Commencing persuasion attempt #1...

"I can remain unsupervised."

"What do you need from the Harbor District?"  
Inquiry processing: Compliance to discuss suggested action may lead to denial of request.  
 **[PILOT'S_LOG_ _BASIC_TRAINING_019]** suggests, "Asking forgiveness is easier than asking for permission."  
Persuasion attempt #1: UNSUCCESSFUL.  
Commencing persuasion attempt #2...

"I wish to surprise you."

Pilot Lastimosa is unsurprised.  
Word choice: Ineffective.

"Yeah, sure. Do what you need to do, EV. I'll be here."

Revising previous entry.  
Word choice: Effective.  
Persuasion attempt #2: SUCCESSFUL.

"I will notify you via your helmet recall once my project has been completed."

Initializing Titan Transport Tram communications...

" **This is T-Squared Rail Operator, Jim Stanford. What's your designation, bud?"**

"This is EV-5649 requesting transportation to posted coordinates from sent coordinates."

" **Hey, EV. Good to hear from you. I'll have one of my guys swing by in just a sec."**

Physics: Improbable.  
Relaying discrepancies...

"Thank you for your assistance, Operator Stanford. However, I am unsure a human male will be able to transport my chassis."

" **He'll be flying a small carrier, EV...Wait where you are. Don't worry about a thing."**

...

Temperature: 24 degrees Celsius  
Wind Speed: 19 kph  
Humidity: 34%  
Precipitation: 0%  
Time: 14:45

Scanning drydock for target...

Container C4: Loaded with SRS-branded explosives.

Unviable option.  
Scanning...

Container B7: Contains a shipment of raw materials from Talon Manufacturing.

Unviable option.  
Scanning...

Container J11: Loaded with grain materials from Jackal Grasslands.  
Hidden narcotics detected.  
!ALERT!: Sending report to archived contact, "Radiance Police Department."  
ADDITIONAL NOTES: Recommended improvements for Immigration and Customs scanner drones.

Unviable option.  
Scanning...

Container D19: Empty.

Viable option located.  
Opening communications channel with Drydock Quadrant D Supervision Tower...

" **This is Buck."**

"Hello. This is EV-5649 requesting possession of shipping container D19."

" **Uh...aren't you, like, a Titan?"**

"Yes. Vanguard-class. My assigned Pilot is Liera Lastimosa."

" **You lost or something?"**

"Negative. I require an empty shipping container for a project imperative to the preservation of Radiance's outlying ruins."

" **Hey, guys, check this out...Uh, yeah, you can take it."**

"Thank you."

Communications transmission concluded.  
Initializing retrieval protocols...  
!ALERT!: Incoming transmission.

" **EV, why did Bucky just tell me you're over there asking for a shipping container?"**

Left armament attached to forefront of shipping container.  
Right armament attached to backend of shipping container.

"I require this shipping container for your surprise."

" **What did I tell you about ordering yourself mod kits?"**

"You told me that it should be a joint decision. I answered with the rebuttal that my desire for a new Titan Weapon overrode my desire to honor your request."

Initializing horizontal compact protocol...

" **OW! Fucking hell, what was that noise?!"**

"I am compacting the shipping container."

Initializing vertical compact protocol...

" **That wasn't an invitation to do it again!"**

"I am sorry. En route to Tiny."

" **What?! EV, tell me what you're up to right now!"**

Initializing long-distance travel loadout...  
Object mounted on hull: 2,300 kg.  
Initializing counter-weight thrusters...

"Negative. That would ruin the surprise."

...

Temperature: 24 degrees Celsius  
Wind Speed: 19 kph  
Humidity: 34%  
Precipitation: 0%  
Time: 15:38

Tiny is observed as "bored," through neural-link transmission.  
Initializing Fetch protocol...

" _EV-5649. There seems to be an error in your programming. Self-designated 'Fetch,' protocol is classified as trivial. Sending Observer for diagnosis and repair."_

"Negative. This 'game' is classified as 'fun' by our operating Pilot."

" _Decoding Fetch protocol..."_

"Do you agree to execute this protocol, Tiny?"

" _Please do not call me that."_

"Pilot Lastimosa believes you enjoy the designation."

" _Pilot Lastimosa is wrong."_

Archiving data log correction...

"Please answer my previous question."

The Architect has agreed.

"Executing Fetch protocol..."

...

I don't know what I expected to find, but it definitely wasn't EV playing fetch with Tiny. She would throw it, he would retrieve it, and she would throw it again... "it" being a crushed shipping container. I looked down at Inga, wagging her tail beside me. She almost went after the hulking ball of metal herself. I grabbed her collar, jerking her back.

"You and Tiny are cut from the same cloth, aren'tchya?"

She barked as if she was confirming my accusation. She looked at me with that stupid, "tongue-out-and-drool-all-over," face she had.

"Pilot," EV bent backwards, winding up for the pitch, "The Architect does not like being called Tiny."

"What?! I thought it was cute."

EV launched the ball, "He prefers to be called by his true name, which is..."

The mechanical nonsense of whatever "The Architect's" real name was _screeched_ through her speaker in an audible burst of chirps and bouncing frequencies.

"Right." I stretched, "'Tiny' it is."

* * *

 **Behind the Scenes:**

"An instruction cycle (also known as the **fetch–decode–execute** cycle or the fetch-execute cycle) is the basic operational process of a computer. It is the process by which a computer retrieves a program instruction from its memory, determines what actions the instruction dictates, and carries out those actions."


	4. Chapter 8: Sibling Rivalry

*****ATTENTION*****

The seventh chapter is titled, "A Little Anarchy," over on MjrGenMatt's profile page.

* * *

 **Summary:**

The Militia already had their pair of renowned super-siblings…  
Liera and Jack weren't about to hand over that title.

* * *

They'd been here for a week.

Vetra, the Turian rogue who had a sly comeback for anything anyone had to say. Drack, the Krogan warrior who constantly demanded rematches whenever I beat him in an arm wrestle. And Ryder…

Well, he was sneaking us through his ship, trying to not get us busted. What would get him in trouble for bringing me there? I didn't know.

But from what I saw, they'd spared no expense when they built the Tempest. The Pathfinder's quarters was no exception. And amidst all the polished wood, stainless steel, and decorative glass paneling; on his desk sat a floating mass of…

Something.

"Good evening, Pilot Lastimosa."

I jumped back, having got too close in my moment of curiosity. The hairs on the back of my neck stood straight, and my heart jumped in my chest.

"Scott, what the fuck?"

"Easy, easy," He let out one of his stupid, melodic laughs, "It's just SAM."

My brows creased, "SAM?"

"He's an AI that my father designed to be compatible with my mother's engineered biotic implants." Scott leaned his side on the wall, facing me, "Anyone with an implant can take advantage of his…unique properties."

I had a bit of experience dabbling with the creations of my parents. Much akin to his implant, my cybernetics were similar. Still, Scott's candid response surprised me, even if it sounded a little rehearsed.  
"What can he do?"

"A lot of things. He can switch my profile on the go, giving me different abilities as I need them. He provides me advanced situational awareness, problem solving-"  
"So he's basically a Vanguard AI?"

"You'll have to elaborate."

"Swappable cores at the ready; armed with different loadouts for any kind of firefight."

He rubbed his chin, "Yeah, I suppose. No one quite knew him like dad did…"

Scott sighed, and picked up his helmet from his desk.

"We'd just crash landed on a planet designated as H-047c. The entire visor of my helmet shattered, and even my Omnitool couldn't fix it…The air wasn't breathable. My father gave me this helmet, and saved my life by sacrificing himself." He put it back down, "And then SAM was transferred to me."

The story rang unsettling bells.

Jack's crash landing on Typhon. Tai giving him his helmet and passing authorization of BT.

I wasn't there for it, but I'd seen the Pilot's Log.

"That must have been terrible…"

"It was." Scott looked at me with a sad smile, "Being the son of a Pathfinder, having to fill his position with such short notice…" He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, and my face flushed, "It made for a lonely life-"

Three angry knocks came at the door.

"SCOTT!" And another, "OPEN UP!"

Whoever it was, she was _pissed.  
_  
"Coming!" His suave, mysterious undertones disappeared from his voice.

He was nervous.

"Uh…shit." He looked around, "Quick, in the closet-"

"Excuse me?" My neck snaked back, "Who is _she_?"

"SCOTT!"

He flinched, and his shoulders tensed to his ears.

"Never mind…"

He slunk over to the door, and creaked it open just a bit, "Yes, dear sister of mine?"

"I know she's in there. Don't even try."

Scott groaned, and opened the door entirely.

"Fucking another native…That weird disease you caught after Eos wasn't enough of a wakeup call for you?"

"Pardon?" I crossed my arms, leaning on one leg, "You've got the wrong idea, lady."

Another native…

She obviously had no idea who I was.

"Sorry." She rolled her eyes, extending her hand, "Sarah Ryder, chief engineer."

"Liera Lastimosa. SRS Combat Intel Specialist. Top Gun Militia Pilot. Head engineer of Lastimosa's Armory-"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. You're important." She shifted her glare to Scott, "That just makes this _more_ unacceptable."

"Does someone want to tell me what's going on?"

They both looked at me, a grin on Sarah's face and a horrified frown on Scott's.

"What did he do, tell you the story about our dad? Show you SAM?"

I shifted my weight, staring at him with just as much venom as her, now.

"That's what I thought." She put her hands on her hips, "We need them to work _with_ us, for fuck's sake. If you get us kicked off this planet-"

"Sarah." He barked, "I wasn't-"

"I said, _don't._ " She held up a hand.

I felt like I was 16 again; back in the Academy, kissing a boy behind the barracks…Right before Jack caught us.

"You're an engineer, you say?" I asked.

"I am."

I tapped my fingers on my arm, looking at SAM, " _My_ mother designed the Vanguard AI while my father designed the Vanguard chassis. The way Scott described the connection with SAM sounds similar to a Titan's neural link…"

Sarah looked unimpressed, "Please, go on…"

"What if I told you each Titan had an advanced AI crammed into a GPU the size of your palm?"

And then she looked interested, "I'd say there was no safer place for a hyper-sensitive AI than on a 20-foot battlemech."

I smirked, "Think we could get SAM in one?"

"Maybe." Sarah shrugged, "But we're not putting my father's technology into the hands of a Pilot."

"I don't blame you." I nodded at Sarah, "Never mind."

"What do you have to do to be a Pilot?" Scott asked.

We both looked at him, disdain on our faces.

I shook my head, making my way past them, "Not a fucking chance."

"Wait-"

"Nope."

I walked through the hatch doors, and hit the close button.

I'd see myself out.

 **…**

When mom died, Tai got rid of the forth chair at the dinner table. And when _he_ died, we got rid of the third. The smell of his cigars was still stuck in the wood. It was almost like he was still with us when we had our nightly conversations…

Usually right before Jack ran off to Sage's.

"Wait," He mumbled over food with his fork pointed at the ceiling, clutched in his fist, "What were you doing in his room?"

I put my elbow on the table and facepalmed, "After all that, _that's_ what you're hung up on?"

"Yes." He swallowed angrily.

"Ugh…"

"Answer me."

"I didn't do anything." I rolled my eyes, "Jesus…"

"He can't save you here."

"Jack, I'm 24 for fucks sake. Almost 25!"

"Yes, I know how old you are! I don't see the relevancy."

Inga started barking, energized by our argument.

"Great, now look what you did..."

"All you had to do was answer the question." Jack tossed her a piece of steak, and she shut up, "So, you really think shoving an AI we know nothing about in a Titan is a good idea?"

"Not at all." I leaned forward, "But I'm curious."

He sighed, running his hand down his face, "The last time you got 'curious,' you brought a Remnant Architect to Harmony…"

"Yeah, well, Tiny isn't happy about it either." I crossed my arms, "Besides, I got shot down anyway."

"Good. Curiosity kills the cat, as they say."

I laughed, "Yeah, but…they've got 9 lives, too."

"I'd put you at 2 left in the armory, then."

"What can I say?" I shrugged, "I've always loved a little anarchy."

 **…**

Jack and I walked through Delta Wing to the briefing room, just like we did every morning. What _wasn't_ part of routine was the Ryder twins standing in front of Briggs' desk in full salute.  
"Late. Again." Briggs put a folder down, "Why am I not surprised?"

I cleared my throat, and we both fell in line, "Commander."

"Since you've both decided to grace us with your presence…" She opened the folder, and slid it over, "Why don't you take a look at this?"

I bit my lip and peaked at the Ryder twins from the corner of my eye.

They looked exhausted.

Dark circles under their eyes. Hair out of place. Clothes wrinkled.

I switched my focus back to the…

Blueprints?

"Wait, what-"

SAM's prototype into a Titan GPU.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Lastimosa." Briggs growled.

"This was my idea!" I grit my teeth, and aimed my glare at their stupid, smirking faces, "You smug mother-"

"LASTIMOSA."

I snarled under my breath, and was surprised to see Jack hovering over me, just as angry.

"Back to what we were discussing, Commander…" Sarah started, "We're experienced in operations involving the construction of an Ark. The Nexus itself could house hundreds of your ships. With our supervision, we believe-"

"No." Jack interrupted, "No way are these idea-stealing fucks shoving their shitty AI in one of our father's Vanguard."

"That's not your call, Cooper." Briggs cut him off, "The SRS always needs gifted Pilots. SAM and the Pathfinder team are a new element on our side of the war. They're a variable. Unpredictable. Plus, they've agreed to help us with Tiny and our investigation into Remnant ruins in the Frontier should we cooperate."

His fists bunched at his sides, "And who would be this Titan's Pilot?"

"Me." Scott pointed a thumb at himself, "I'm already linked with SAM. All I need to do is run the Gauntlet. And I wouldn't even need a jump kit."

Scott Ryder, enhanced with naturally-occurring biotics that gave him super-human abilities…

Almost just like me.

"The only problem is, we would need someone to oversee that Gauntlet…" Briggs sighed, "Talking someone into _that_ will be the trick. I'm sure to get some backlash-"

"I'll do it." I blurted, "I'll be his Overseer."

"Oh?" She perked up, "And why would you want to do that?"

Another Pilot that could keep up with me- a _cybernetically_ enhanced killing machine...

They weren't getting off easily.

"Because if someone's going to pilot a Vanguard, they need to prove they're the best. Who better to judge than a Top Gun Pilot?"

Yeah, I pulled that card.

And Briggs bought in.

"Fine."

Ryder wasn't about to replace the Lastimosa name in the books…

That was for damn sure.


End file.
